Nothing About You
by shandiss
Summary: All that's left is the clean up after the latest Bombshell Bounty Hunter exploit.  Will Steph finally make a sensible decision between Ranger and Joe? Rated M.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who has read my one-shots and left reviews. I'm trying to catch up on my replies—real life has kept my plate very full the last few months. Thank you for your patience and your thoughtful opinions. The following is the beginning of my first multi-chapter story which was a challenge short on Perfectly Plum that took on a life of its own. I hope you enjoy it!_

_All Plum characters are the property of Janet Evanovich. Rated M for language and some inappropriate displays of (Ranger) affection. Definitely Babe in the end. All fumbles, bumbles, interceptions, miscues and tippy toes along the sidelines that go out of bounds (or result in inelegant face plants) are mine alone. Chapter heading quotes from Brooks & Dunn. _

_Nothing About You_

**Part One**

"_**The way you look . . ."**_

"No . . . no . . . no . . . no . . . no!" Steph flipped through the dresses in her closet, nearing panic as she discarded one after the other. All of the clothes were absolutely ass-kicking, and none were right for this evening out with Joe. A red halter dress with a plunging V neck sailed through the air to land on a heap with the other dresses that hadn't made the cut.

"_Sensible, tasteful, low key," he'd said. "The Chief is entertaining a foreign police commissioner who wants to set up an exchange program with Trenton PD. Only a select few from the department are being invited. We need to put our best foot forward on this." He took her hand and gave her a Morelli-lethal puppy dog grin. "Please, Cupcake. I want to have you on my arm for this."_

Steph was more than confident she could put both feet forward in nothing but the best. She'd picked up a pair of stunning Vittorio's just last week. It was the rest of the outfit that was giving her problems. If Joe gave her the option of one out of the three, she was pretty sure she could come up with the 'tasteful' part. It was combining it with 'sensible' and 'low key' where the problems cropped up.

"Aargh!" Steph flopped onto her bed and tipped her head back, staring at the ceiling in frustration. Whenever she thought of anything even remotely connected to Sensible, she always flashed to her childhood and Sunday Mass, when a gaggle of elderly women would gather in their groups for sternly hushed conversations. All of them wore unrelieved black, and most had the thin-lipped mouth and narrow, disapproving eyes down to a T. The fact that most of their disapproval was sent in her direction had absolutely nothing to do with her instinctive revolt against even the concept of _sensible_.

"I can't do this," she moaned, rolling over to bury her face in a pillow. "I can't do this and Joe is going to be the laughingstock of the department." Her fingers clenched in the fabric of the pillowcase, then she sighed and forced herself to relax. Hysterics might make her feel better, but it wasn't going to find her the right outfit. For that, she needed to call in the big guns.

Her hand reached over to the bedside table and felt around until she found her cell phone. Steph turned her head and hit the speed dial. There was only one person she knew of who was equal to this task. She counted three rings before it picked up. "Mary Lou?"

"Steph! What's up?"

Quickly, Steph outlined her problem. There was a long moment of silence, then another. Finally, Steph couldn't stand the suspense any longer. "Are you still there?"

"You think I'm sensible?" asked her best friend in a horrified tone. "I'm the old fuddy duddy you ask for help when you want to be _sensible_?"

"No, it's not like that!" Steph pressed a finger into her temple, trying to come up with a plausible explanation fast. "But can you see me asking Sally Sweet for advice on this? His idea of sensible includes thigh high boots and chains!"

Mary Lou didn't say anything right away, and Steph held her breath, fearing that she had completely blown it. "I can see your point," said Mary Lou finally. "Did Joe give you any other hints as to what you should wear?"

"Not really. He just said the Commissioner was from a very conservative, very rural part of his country, and to play it very safe. I just don't know what is 'very safe'. I mean, some cleavage, no cleavage, high neck, what? Short sleeves, long sleeves, no sleeves—you see where I'm going with this?"

"Calm down." Mary Lou thought for a moment, the tapping of her finger against the phone clearly audible. "Okay, tell you what. Give me 30 minutes to get the kids over to my mother-in-law's, and I'll pick you up for a shopping trip. I'll call around and get some recommendations, okay?"

"You're a lifesaver," said Steph fervently. That got a laugh from her best friend. "No, I mean it. Without you, I'd be showing up at this dinner and starting an international incident."

Mary Lou made a _tsk_ing sound. "You're Stephanie Plum, sweetie. An international incident would be a normal day for you."

She hung up, and Steph staree at the phone in dismay. A fleeting, _sensible _thought argued that canceling on Joe early enough so he could find a different date would be the prudent thing to do. Maybe his mom could suggest a budding paragon of Burg virtue—meek, mild and completely sensible. Someone who would be able to last an evening without offending a visiting dignitary or setting the restaurant on fire. _Or blowing it up_, suggested her traitorous mind. That thought she squashed without a second's hesitation. No fires, no mishaps, no broken plates. Not this time.

Bouncing up from the bed, Steph swept the piles of discarded clothes to one side and grabbed a clean shirt and jeans. There was just enough time before Mary Lou arrived to clean up a bit and into clothes that were easy to change. Knowing Mary Lou, once she got started on the shopping spree there would be no stopping until they attacked and defeated the last possible store. They would spend a few hours of fun reliving old times, and end with a good dinner and even better drinks. Nothing but good old-fashioned, wholesome fun. Steph paused in the door of her bedroom and looked back at the closet of clothes that hadn't made the grade. If there was nothing but a good shopping trip to look forward to, then why did she have the sudden premonition that there was only trouble ahead?

Steph took a deep breath, then let it out in an explosive sigh. A TV dinner and a movie on cable seemed a whole lot more tempting at the moment, but she wasn't going to back out on Joe now. No, better to grit her teeth and get through the evening, then burn whatever outfit she ended up wearing. Yeah, and invite Sally to roast marshmallows over that little bonfire . . .

With a laugh and shake of her head, Steph ducked into the bathroom to get ready. Before she could light it up, she had to get the outfit, and it wouldn't surprise her if she kept the damn thing just so she could pull it out occasionally and snicker over the silly things she was willing to do for love.


	2. Chapter 2

_All Plum characters are the property of Janet Evanovich. Rated M for language and some inappropriate displays of (Ranger) affection. Definitely Babe in the end. All fumbles, bumbles, interceptions, miscues and tippy toes along the sidelines that go out of bounds (or result in inelegant face plants) are mine alone. Chapter heading quotes from Brooks & Dunn. _

_Nothing About You_

**Part Two**

"_**The way you laugh . . ."**_

She was waiting in the parking lot when Mary Lou pulled in. The minivan looked a little worse for wear with mud coating it from front bumper to rear wheel well. A liberal helping of New Jersey's native soil even adorned the windshield like a thick layer of butter cream frosting. Gingerly, Steph used two fingers to pop the door latch, then gritted her teeth as the door refused to budge. Mary Lou threw the van into park, unbuckled her seat belt and swiveled in her seat. She braced her feet against the door and gave it a good, solid kick.

Steph felt the door give slightly. "One more time!" she called. Mary Lou scooted closer and let fly a kick that would have made a mule proud. Evidently the door agreed; it flew open, throwing Steph back several feet. She windmilled, trying to keep her balance, and lost the battle as the curb decided to add its two cents. Her landing was as immediate as it was graceless. The only fortunate part about it was the one point landing was on her ass and not her head.

"Ohmigod!" Mary Lou scrambled to the passenger side and nearly fell out of the van. "Are you okay, Steph? I didn't mean to kick that hard!"

"I'm fine." She scrambled to her feet and winced a little as her butt protested. "With my luck I just tore a big fat hole in my jeans, damn it."

"Turn around." Steph complied, and Mary Lou made a relieved noise. "Nope, no tear. You skinned up your right arm, though. Oh, Steph, I'm so sorry."

Steph gathered up her purse, checked to make sure nothing had spilled out on the sidewalk, and made a flipping motion with her hand. "Slide over, Mare. I've taken worse while chasing skips, and at least this time didn't involve somebody's week old garbage."

Mary Lou scrambled back into the driver's seat and rebuckled her belt as Steph slid in. There were chunks of mud littering the floor mat, and a couple of splatters on the dashboard. Steph pulled the door shut, then gave it a good yank to make sure it latched. As Mary Lou put the minivan into drive, Steph set her purse on her lap and tried to find a good way to phrase the question just begging to be asked.

"Mare? Care to explain the mud?"

Her best friend ignored her, peering through the streaked windshield and squinting as sun glare bounced off the dirt. Steph wasn't about to let her skate. "Mary Lou, this car looks like a road rally wannabe. Don't tell me Lenny took up off-roading."

"There was a water main break down the street," she said finally. "I dragged the boys out of the mud and I didn't have time to hose them off. Then the van was stuck and I drove over Mr. Teeswater's lawn to get out."

"Is your mother-in-law still speaking to you?"

Mary Lou hunched over the steering wheel. "Yes, but it's going to cost me a day pass to the spa for her and a friend."

"And Mr. Teeswater?"

"Lenny's taking care of that." She glanced out the side window, then back at Steph. Her breath came out in a huff. "Yes, damn it. So if you wouldn't mind, we need to swing by Victoria's Secret. He already told me what it's going to cost."

Steph held up a hand. "That's okay, Mare. Anything beyond this point is TMI, get my drift?"

This time the huff was accompanied by Mary Lou's patented Burg Mom glare. Deciding that shutting up was the better part of not walking home, Steph dropped the hand and became intensely interested in the drying mud on the dashboard. There was silence in the van for a few minutes, then Mary Lou reached over and patted Steph's arm.

"It's days like this that make me envy you, Steph. If you're dealing with enough mud for a barnyard, it's because you choose to do it. Me, I don't have a choice. Mud and screaming kids and the whole Mom deal makes me feel like a 'thing' and not a 'me'."

Steph covered her hand with her own. "You'll never be a 'thing' to me, Mare. No matter how many kids you have, or lawns you drive over, you'll always be my best friend. I'll always need you in my life, whether as the sensible one, or as a reminder that what I do helps keep good people like you safe." She gave her friend's hand an extra pat before letting go. "Now, where are we going? I really need to dress to impress this time."

Mary Lou sniffed a couple of times and dabbed at the corners of her eyes to avoid smearing her mascara, then managed a reasonable copy of her usual grin. "You'll like this place, Steph. I called my mom and she said the whole Burg is buzzing about _A La Mode_. Nice clothes and really good assistants. According to her, if it's not at _A La Mode_, it's not ready for the Burg."

Wisely, Steph kept her eye roll small and extremely unnoticeable. That description was probably the number one reason she'd never heard of the shop. If it was half as bad as it sounded, she'd probably need a weekend shopping trip into New York just to get the aftertaste out of her psyche. Oh, yeah, and a budget busting splurge at Victoria's Secret.

The first hint of nausea roiled her stomach when Mary Lou pulled into the parking lot of a strip mall. The usual stores ran along the brick sidewalk, but it was the perky little shoebox storefront sitting by itself in one corner of the lot that set her teeth on edge. _A La Mode_ was blazoned across the front in tall, cursive and extremely pink letters. The other accent color seemed to be a generic teal several tones too blue and splashed everywhere, including several artistically placed splotches on the windows.

Steph tried to peer inside as she climbed out of the car. She could see people going in and out of the store, but couldn't make out anything more than a rack of clothes just inside the door. With a determined set to her shoulders, Steph took a deep breath to fortify herself and followed Mary Lou into the tiger's den.


	3. Chapter 3

_All Plum characters are the property of Janet Evanovich. Rated M for language and inappropriate, very public displays of (Ranger) affection. Definitely Babe in the end. All mistakes, errors and non sequiturs are mine alone. Chapter heading quotes from Brooks & Dunn. _

**_Nothing About You_**

_Part Three_

"_**I love your attitude . . ."**_

The interior of the store was a calm, quiet oasis of understated elegance. Warm lights highlighted fashionable dresses, tops and skirts while sales associates dressed in tasteful coordinates glided past displays searching for the perfect accessories for their clients. Classical music, piped throughout the store, added to the peaceful atmosphere.

Steph blinked. Nope. She tried again, holding her eyes scrunched shut for a full five count before whipping the eyelids open so fast they flipped like cheap window shades. No dice. The carpeting was burnt orange, the walls were beige, pink and teal and the music was, well . . . Muzak. Really, really bad Muzak.

"Mary Lou—"

Her best friend held up a hand. "Stop right there. _No_ whining. None." She gave Steph a Burg Mom look. "Quit being such a prima donna."

"What do you mean 'prima donna'? I always fly first class when I'm shopping for clothes. This," Steph waved an impotent hand at the scene in front of her. A grey-haired, matronly sales associate eyed a hopeful teenaged girl while the mother fluttered around in the background. Dresses with enough frills and lace to satisfy even a Burg mother's heart were selected and discarded with ruthless precision. "I . . . you . . . this . . ." She stopped and tried again. "You can't be serious!"

"Think about Joe," said Mary Lou. "Think about the dinner and the foreign police commissioner and how much is riding on it. All of that, weighed against a couple of hours finding something that makes you look demure, sensible, and normal. Come on, Steph. Make the sacrifice."

She gritted her teeth, then relaxed. "I hate it, but you're right. I will hate every single minute I have to be in here. I will hate it while I'm standing in the shower trying to sterilize all of the sensible cooties that are going to follow me home. They're like little bloodsuckers that you have to pick off one by one, and if you miss any, they multiply like fleas. Then I'll have to start all over again."

"Sit beside Val at the next family dinner. All of your sensible cooties will fall in love with her and leave you like yesterday's wilted cabbage." Mary Lou grabbed her upraised hand and tugged. "Let's go, Steph. Paste a smile on your face and suck it up. This will all be over soon enough."

Steph tried to do as Mary Lou said, but the expression on her face felt like a frozen grimace of unspeakable horror, more suited to a medieval torture chamber than a dress shop. It probably looked worse, judging by the slightly widened eyes and flared nostrils of the sales associate Mary Lou zeroed in on. The woman was younger by two decades than anyone else, and her nervousness made her seem even younger.

"Welcome to _A La Mode_," she said, striving for calm serenity and failing miserably as a muscle beneath her eye twitched. "What can I help you find today?"

"My friend needs a dress for evening wear. Something sensible and conservative." Mary Lou sailed into control like the _QEII_.

The sales associate smiled, the practiced and gracious expression of an accomplished woman of society. "White tie, black tie, or cocktail?"

"Uh—" Steph floundered, trying to think if Joe had even mentioned it. "Sensible, tasteful and low-key," she said, hoping one of the words would work.

The associate's smile faltered, but she bravely propped it up. The strain was starting to show around her eyes and the twitch accelerated to double time. "Is it in town or in the City?"

"Here. The Chief of Police is hosting a dinner for a foreign commissioner." Mary Lou still hadn't broken a sweat. She reached back without looking and snagged Steph by the sleeve as she tried to fade out the door. "We're looking for something on the upper side of semi-formal. No cleavage, arm coverage and darker colors."

There was a moment's brief hesitation. Then the associate nodded briskly, once more on solid ground. "I think I know just the thing. It will look darling on you."

She set off for the back of the store like a drum major at the head of the Trenton Fourth of July parade. Steph was all for letting her lead; in fact, she was feeling more about Tail End Charlie-ing it out to the parking lot. _Maybe I could wash Mare's minivan. With a toothbrush. Then steam clean the floor mats and seat cushions and . . ."_

Mary Lou's hand closed over her arm like a vise. With an air of outward calm, she hauled Steph around. "Don't even think about it. Whatever happened to the girl who wanted to fly? This is your chance."

"So why do I feel like I'm about to jump holding a cinder block for ballast?" muttered Steph as she sulkily allowed Mary Lou to pull her after the sales associate. They rounded a display, and Steph automatically dug in her heels as she stared at the mauve print dress the woman was holding. "No. _Hell_, no. No way in freaking hell!"

"It's absolutely you, dear," the woman purred. There was an unholy gleam in her eyes, like a shark scenting blood in the water. "Think of how adorable you'll be."

"Mare," whispered Steph frantically. "I can't wear that. It has a freaking huge bow in the middle of the chest!"

Her best friend didn't reply right away, and Steph nearly jerked her off her feet. "Mary Lou!"

"Oh, all right." Mary Lou waved the dress away. "I don't think the bow is going to work on Steph. I like the color, though."

The sales associate flipped the dress around and studied it. "You're right. The single bow is a little too difficult to balance, especially when the shoulders are crooked." She slid it back on the rack and ran her finger down the row. "Let me see. No. No, not that one. Ah, here it is."

Triumphantly, she pulled out a dress that was a deep, vivid wine color. It had a lace insert yoke and a frilled high collar tied with a thin silky cord. _Two _bows graced this dress, one for each shoulder. They flopped around like wilted vines as the sales associate extolled the virtues of the design.

Steph stared at it, her mind blank with horror. The dress was the kind she never thought she would ever consider. Even last week, she would have dismissed it as too old, too sensible. Now she was thinking about wearing the damn thing. No, she knew she was going to wear it. Like Mare said, she had to think of Joe and how much it would mean to him. _Think of Joe, _she repeated to herself. Even as she did, even as she tried to reconcile herself to the dress and its complete coverage of everything from neck to knee and shoulder to wrist, Steph couldn't help wondering if maybe she should have borrowed one of her mother's dresses and made her public humiliation complete.

"I'll take it," she said. Within moments she found herself in possession of the wine-colored dress as the sales associate disappeared to find the perfect accessories. Steph knew the shoes would match the dress exactly and have a perfectly_ sensible_ heel. There would be a clutch purse and maybe an earring and necklace set. She would take all of them, she would wear them, and she would make it through the evening. By the time Joe drove her home, she would be so thoroughly sensible that she'd head straight to the kitchen and start baking. Or join a bridge club. The only blessing was that the dress had no pockets, and her gun wouldn't fit into a clutch. No gun, ergo, no danger of her shooting the first, second or third person to comment on how _sensible_ she looked.

Life would be perfect.


	4. Chapter 4

_All Plum characters are the property of Janet Evanovich. Rated M for language and inappropriate, very public displays of (Ranger) affection. Definitely Babe in the end. All mistakes, errors and non sequiturs are mine alone. Chapter heading quotes from Brooks & Dunn. _

**Part Four**

"_**The way you move when you walk by . . ."**_

"Come back here, you little . . ." Steph chewed on her lower lip as she chased after the last stubborn curl. Two hours into her preparations, she was trying to put the finishing touches on her hair. It took a lot of conditioner, a can of mousse and industrial strength hair spray, but she managed to get her curls straightened and confined into the chignon. The only rebel was the little curl that insisted on falling in front of her right ear. Despite of her best efforts, it managed to escape every attempt she made to confine it.

A last desperate grab and Steph finally corralled the little bugger. She stepped back to check her handiwork, and had to admit that she had done good. Instead of a poufy up-do that whispered careless sensuality, Steph's hair swept back in a severe style that was all about low-key and sensible. She turned her head to one side. Yeah, she could do sensible as well as any Burg woman worth her salt.

Her gaze fell on the case sitting on her bathroom counter. That had been the one purchase she didn't plan on, but Mary Lou saw them at the _A La Mode_ register and insisted. Before she could say 'four eyes', Steph was in possession of a pair of fashion glasses and a pinky swear promise to wear them.

With a sigh, she flipped open the case and took out the dark frames. She kept her eyes down as she slid them onto her nose. The plastic settled with unfamiliar weight over her ears, and Steph steeled herself before lifting her chin to look in the mirror.

Her jaw dropped. "Holy Diana Prince," she muttered. The glasses muted her eyes and took over her face. The severe hair style accentuated her cheekbones and further distracted attention from her eyes. A little muted lipstick and it would be difficult to even see Stephanie Plum in this woman staring out from the mirror.

Steph carefully laid the glasses on the sink and went into the bedroom to get dressed. Her expression was thoughtful as she eased the wine-colored monstrosity over her shoulders, and zipped up the back. Then it was back to the bathroom to put the glasses back on.

"Perfect," she said, nodding once for emphasis. She flipped the light off and went into the living room. A glance at the clock showed that she had a few minutes before Joe was due to pick her up. Steph didn't sit down; she was too jittery about Joe's reaction to her transformation to sit still. She was determined to play the part of the sensible, demure girl from the Burg tonight, and she wanted to get off on the right foot with Joe.

She indulged in a little twirl, spinning around in a complete circle. The dress swirled around her legs, then reversed as she turned in the opposite direction. Midway through the next pirouette, metal scraped in the locks of her front door, and Steph hurriedly composed herself to wait for Joe.

"Hey, Cupcake! You ready to—" Joe stopped dead, surprise warring with flat out shock. "Steph?"

"Hey, Joe." She cocked her head to the side and gave him a tiny smile. "What do you think?"

"You're so damn good looking, it's not even right," he said, walking towards her. Steph slid her hands into his grasp, giving his fingers a little squeeze. "What happened?"

The satisfied glow inside her went out like a candle doused by a fire hose. "What do you mean 'what happened'? Are you saying that you think I'm not good-looking the rest of the time?"

"No, of course not!" Joe opened his mouth, then shut it with a snap. Steph gave him a narrow-eyed stare and pulled her hands away. The silence stretched out between them until she threw her hands in the air and grabbed her matching clutch purse from the counter.

"You are so lucky I don't want to be late," she said. "Otherwise, I'd make you stand there until you wormed your way out of this one."

He tried a patented Morelli grin, adding in a panty-melting, brown-eyed seductive look for extra credit. "Cupcake, it's just that you're so beautiful you make my brain cells short circuit. I wish my mother could see you looking so damn fine. You put every woman in the Burg to shame."

The little glow didn't come back at his assurance. As he helped her into her wrap and ushered her out the door, Steph tried to revive the little flame, but it was deader than week-old road kill in summer. She kept her head high and even managed a smile as Joe opened the car door for her and helped her into the front seat. She couldn't stop the sadness though, and by the time they'd reached Rossini's, there was an uncomfortable tightness behind her eyes that presaged a headache.

Joe didn't notice her silence. He escorted her through the front door, handing her wrap off at the coat check with practiced ease. As Steph allowed herself to be led into the main dining room, she fixed the smile firmly on her face and steeled herself to survive the evening.

Rossini's was closed to the general public for this dinner. The hors d'oeuvres table ran along the front wall while round tables filled out the rest of the area. An open space near the front encouraged the attendees to mingle prior to the dinner, and several early arriving couples were already making good use of the area. Joe took Steph by the hand and moved through the crowd, greeting the officers and their spouses or dates as he went by. Steph ignored the curious looks thrown her way as she followed in Joe's wake. The disguise that had been so much fun an hour ago already felt confining. She didn't know if she would last another hour before going absolutely nuts.

Joe stopped abruptly. Steph caught a glimpse of sequined evening gowns and expensive suits and instinctively shrank back. There was some serious designer money in this group, and she knew her _sensible_ dress didn't stand a chance next to them.

"Commissioner Viteazul, may I introduce my girlfriend?" Joe stepped to one side and urged Steph forward. She resisted the impulse to plant her feet and allowed him to bring her forward like a prized heifer. A medium-built older man with a salt and pepper mustache and an impeccably fitted suit stood in the middle of the group. The Trenton Police Chief was to his left with the Mrs. Police Chief next to him in a stunning Donna Karan. Steph knew them both by sight, but she'd never moved in their circle. They belonged to the rarefied level that she couldn't even dream of reaching. Now she was here, and looking as frumpy as the proverbial country girl.

She squared her shoulders and extended her hand to the Commissioner. "Stephanie Plum, sir. A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Commissioner Alexandru Viteazul," he said, taking her hand. His accent was a little thick, but he carefully enunciated his words. "I am sure the pleasure and honor is mine."

Steph felt her smile broaden into a genuine grin. Commissioner Viteazul smiled back and tucked her hand under his arm. "Will you come with me?" he asked. "I would meet the rest of these lovely people, and I can do so much better when there is a beautiful woman on my arm."

She'd barely nodded agreement when he took off around the room. The next half hour was a blur of activity and conversation. Commissioner Viteazul had an exuberance about him that was infectious, and he circulated throughout the room at a blinding speed.

She lost track of Joe early on, but didn't have time for more than a fleeting regret at abandoning him. Viteazul was talking with one of the shift lieutenants when Steph noticed that the wait staff was prepping to begin serving dinner. "Commissioner," she said, slipping her hand from his grip, "I need to excuse myself for a moment. If you would be so kind?"

"You are feeling unwell?" he asked.

Steph patted his arm. "No, I'm fine. I'd just like to freshen up before the meal."

"Then I shall be forlorn until you return." Commissioner Viteazul bowed as she left, and Steph couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped her as she headed for the powder room. She was actually having more fun than she thought possible. Even without Joe, she had enjoyed listening to the Commissioner talk about his country and his plans for the exchange. He was a decent man and a good cop; that much was obvious from his enthusiasm and his appreciation for what Trenton offered. If the program's success meant that New Jersey would see more of him, Steph certainly wouldn't be the least bit disappointed.

The hallway to the restrooms was dimly lit, a restful change from the main room. Steph nudged open the door to the women's powder room, then froze as a dark shadow pushed her inside and imprisoned her against the wall. She took a deep breath to scream, then completely lost all thought of breathing as a familiar touch feathered against her right ear.

"Babe, has anyone mentioned how sexy glasses look on you?"


	5. Chapter 5

_All Plum characters are the property of Janet Evanovich. Rated M for language and highly inappropriate, very public displays of (Ranger) affection. Definitely Babe in the end. All mistakes, errors and non sequiturs are mine alone. Chapter heading quotes from Brooks & Dunn. _

**Part Five**

"_**The way you love with all you have . . ."**_

Pressed against the wall by his weight, Steph couldn't breathe without inhaling the intoxicating mixture of Bulgari and Ranger. She gasped and felt him shift slightly, but otherwise he didn't move away. Instead, he leaned in to her and his warmth flowed over her like a rich, deep tide.

"What are you doing here?" she finally managed to get out.

His lips brushed against the sensitive skin below her ear. "Watching the most beautiful woman in the room enchant every man she looks at," he said. "And hoping she would look at me."

Steph's eyes crossed as Ranger touched the same spot with his tongue, then nipped a bit with his teeth. Her hands came up to grip his biceps and his muscles rippled underneath her fingers as he gathered her closer. He adjusted his hands and she gasped as he moved his lips to the underside of her jaw.

"Ranger—"

"Hmm?" He didn't stop his soft kisses, moving to the other side and working back up to her ear.

"You shouldn't kiss me like this unless you mean it like that," she said, trying to grab what wits she had left. There were precious few; one touch from Ranger's magic lips and every sensible thought in her mind fled.

He went still, then carefully placed a gentle kiss on her pulse where it fluttered between the tendons of her neck. "And if I mean it like that?" he asked in a low voice. "What then, Steph?"

Maybe it was the overload of sensible cooties that had swarmed around her ever since she left _A la Mode_. Maybe she could blame it on the double takes from her friends tonight at her dress, or the feeling that she was strangling in the confinement of sensible expectations, but Steph was past the point of really caring about _cause_. All she wanted was _effect_. With Ranger pressed against her and asking questions she never thought she would hear from him, _effect_ was pretty much a foregone conclusion.

For the first time since she had started the transformation to Sensible Steph, she didn't think or hesitate. Steph drew back slightly. Ranger's arms loosened around her and she raised up on her toes to give him the hottest kiss she could.

She surprised him. That much she could tell by the fraction of a second he went absolutely still, his muscles rigid beneath her fingers. His lips were soft under hers for that moment, then he kissed her back and shot it past 'hot' straight to 'firestorm'.

Her world narrowed down to just Ranger; she was deaf and blind to everything else. As he deepened the kiss, she twined her hands around his neck to hold him right where he was. A laugh vibrated through him, one that swiftly changed to a groan when she renewed her onslaught.

A maelstrom of heat and need surrounded Steph. She was gladly surrendering to it when Ranger started to pull back.

"No," she whimpered, following him as she tried to keep contact. "No . . . no . . . no."

"Hold on, Wonder Woman," he said as he reached up to touch his ear. "RangeMan One checking in at quarter hour."

There was a low buzzing and his lips quirked a little as he glanced at her. "Negative on the suspicious person report. Everything's clear on this side."

"What?" Steph wrestled with her Ranger-fuddled brain, and shifted so she could see the little receiver tucked into his ear. Her eyes narrowed as she took in the rest of his clothes, from the long-sleeved black shirt to the steel-reinforced black sneakers. "Oh my God. You're working. Why couldn't you tell me you were going to be here working?"

He raised an eyebrow at her and tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear. "Sorry, Babe. Had more important things on my mind."

_Like kissing me senseless_, she thought, then groaned inwardly when his expression grew more than a little smug. Trying to give herself room to think, she put her hands on his chest and pushed. He gave her a step back and folded his arms over that perfect chest, watching her.

"Fine," she said, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "Mind telling me exactly why you followed me into the ladies' bathroom, other than to completely scramble my brains?"

"Commissioner Viteazul is a reformer in his home country. Some people aren't happy with the change." Ranger glanced around the bathroom. "Feds had a tip there's a contract out on him. He leaves tonight so it's the last chance an assassin has to get him. RangeMan's providing extra security until he's out of the country."

Steph closed her eyes and leaned against the cool tile, feeling the disaster sweeping towards her like a tsunami. "Oh, no. Mary Lou warned me. She said there would be an international incident with me around. Why didn't I listen to her?"

"You won't cause an international incident," said Ranger, leaning in to brush a soft kiss against her lips. "You're Wonder Woman. You fix international incidents."

"Do we know what the killer looks like?" Steph asked, still keeping her eyes scrunched tight. Maybe if she ignored it, this whole impending doom thing would go away . . .

"You in?"

She sighed and opened her eyes. Ranger was watching her with a serious expression. "I'm in. You need me close to Viteazul in case the hit man makes a move, right?"

He relaxed ever so slightly. "Yeah. Viteazul refused bodyguards. Says he's not afraid. We're working the perimeter and blending in as much as possible. It helps having you close enough to act when and if the shooting starts."

"You want me to hustle him to safety," she asked, rubbing her temples as the threatened headache made its appearance, "Or just tackle him to the ground?"

Ranger closed the distance between them and nudged her fingers out of the way as he took over the gentle massage. Steph would have sworn that her eyes crossed for the second time that evening as he used light pressure to soothe the tension building up in her head. "Use your instincts," he said softly. "I'll alert the teams you're on board. There's an armored limo waiting in the back through the kitchen. If you think you can get him to the limo, do it. Otherwise duck and cover. We'll take care of the rest."

"I knew I was going to need my gun tonight," she muttered. "Sensible and normal are never going to work for me."

"Steph." A light touch skimmed across her shoulder, then wrapped around her neck. Ranger settled his other forearm around her neck so she was imprisoned within the circle of his muscular arms, a helpless target for those hot, dark eyes. "There's nothing wrong with who you are. Just because you live on the edge of what those people out there think is normal and safe doesn't mean you are wrong. Different isn't automatically wrong."

She reached up and rubbed off the smear of pale color on his lower lip. "You seem to like different."

"I like your kind of different." He bent his head down so his breath feathered against her cheek. "But the dress has to go."

"Can I burn it?"

His laugh vibrated through her. "I'll bring the lighter fluid and the matches after this is over. Deal?"

"Deal." Steph moved out of his embrace and went over to the mirrors to fix the damage to her hair and lipstick. The glasses were worse than useless, their lenses fogged over and smeared. She set them to the side and peered into the mirror, trying to chase that rebellious curl back into good behavior. Ranger was a shadow behind her reflection, more felt than seen as she slipped back into the sensible persona that had seemed so confining a few moments ago. Knowing that with Ranger it was never about outside appearances and he liked what was inside of her just fine made her feel energized and alive

"Watch everything and everyone," Ranger said, moving closer behind her. "We think that the attempt will come either during dinner or when Viteazul stands to make his speech."

"He'll be safe, I promise." Steph smiled at him in the mirror.

He dropped a kiss on the back of her neck. "Be careful."

"I'd like to be, but there isn't time." She gave up on the curl and wet her fingers to smooth it behind her ear as much as possible. Picking up the glasses, she used the tail end of a bow on her dress to remove the worst of the smears. It wasn't the best of solutions, but she didn't know what else to do. Just as she was about to put them back on, Ranger took the glasses out of her hands.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, sliding them onto her face. His touch was light but sure, settling the glasses so they rested on the bridge of her nose. "I don't want you to do this if you aren't."

She nodded. "I like Viteazul. If I can keep him safe, then I'm doing it."

"That's my girl." Ranger went to the door and cracked it open to scan the area. "Give me about three minutes before you leave."

"Gotcha." She took a deep breath, and the question popped out before she could stop it. "Ranger, why do you think my glasses are sexy?"

He paused, then carefully shut the door and took the two steps back to her. Ranger pulled her close and bent his head to lick a fiery hot trail up the side of her neck. As Steph's mind blanked out completely, she felt his breath warm and sinful in her ear. "Because it's one more thing I get to take off of you." Then he was gone.


	6. Chapter 6

_All Plum characters are the property of Janet Evanovich. Rated M for language and highly inappropriate, very public displays of (Ranger) affection. Definitely Babe in the end. All mistakes, errors and non sequiturs are mine alone. Chapter heading quotes from Brooks & Dunn. _

_Nothing About You_

**Part Six**

"_**Girl you got everything . . ."**_

Steph backed up until she hit the wall. Her hand was pressed against her chest as her heart tried to pound free of her body. The blood had drained from her mind and pooled somewhere else, and all that she was able to think was one long, drawn out _Wow_. She stared at the closed door for a long time as her heart rate calmed, then took a deep breath and tried to kick start her brain.

This time it worked. Well, kind of. She tried a head slap to see if that would jar anything loose, and winced as her brain jounced around her skull a couple of times. A couple of blinks later, and she was good as new.

Steph checked herself in the mirror one last time, and straightened the bows on her shoulders before taking a deep breath, raising her chin and sweeping out the door with enough élan to make Mary Lou proud.

The élan lasted two steps into the hallway, where she crashed into a broad chest and bounced off. She staggered, and a strong hand clamped over her arm to steady her. Steph looked up to see Joe staring down at her with a strange look in his eyes: half exasperation and half something that made her stomach twist in uneasy ways.

"Sorry," she said, "I guess I wasn't looking where I was going."

"That's not half your problem, Cupcake," Joe said, then shook his head when she opened her mouth to take issue with both his words and his tone. "Save it. While you've been primping, Viteazul has thrown everything into chaos. He's insisting that we be moved to his table so he can talk to you during dinner."

Steph resisted the urge to glance around the darkened hallway. "I didn't influence him, Joe. He came up with that on his own."

"Sometimes I wonder," he said, running his fingers through his hair. It was nearly standing on end, evidence that Joe had been indulging in that nervous habit already.

"Joe!"

"No, I mean it." He grasped her arm and urged her towards the main room. "I can't for the life of me accept that you can cause this much disruption without trying. Do you realize I'm going to have to work my ass off to make it up to the Chief Detective and his wife who just got bumped down to our old spots?"

Stephanie was saved from having to answer as they wove between the tables. She wasn't completely ignorant of the speculative glances being cast towards them, and the occasional whisper that rose in their wake. Even without clearly hearing what the words were, she could make a pretty good guess about the meat of them. Maybe Sensible Stephanie would have been mortified and shrunk in on herself, but Wonder Woman didn't back down, not even when she was playing Diana Prince.

Commissioner Viteazul rose from his chair as they reached the head table. "Stephanie! Come, sit next to me. The room has been much darker without you to brighten it."

"The Commissioner flatters me," Steph said, peeling Joe's fingers off her arm as unobtrusively as possible. For a moment she was tempted to bend his thumb back as a silent reminder to behave, but instead she gave Viteazul a cheery smile and sank into the chair he held out for her.

He patted her shoulder as he took his own seat to her left, in front of a large silver candelabra. "You remind me so much of my beautiful Elizaveta. So kind she was, and patient with her big bear of a husband. Even during the darkest days in my country, when it seemed we would never see the sun, a look or a word from her would bring the sun in my heart."

"She sounds like an exceptional woman." Steph casually glanced around as she spoke, watching the white-coated waiters gliding between the tables and trying to pinpoint the extra security Ranger had mentioned.

"She was." Viteazul shook out his linen napkin and placed it on his lap. "She lived to see our freedom come, but not to see our country in the sunshine of our new awakening. The illness took her from me, and all that I have left are the memories."

"I'm so sorry." She touched his arm, wanting to do something to dispel the sadness and pain that underscored his words. A gasp from the woman on the other side of Joe alerted her that she had probably over-stepped the bounds of polite interaction. The old pain in Viteazul's eyes took precedence over social etiquette; to Steph, leaving him alone in his memories was more than she was willing to do.

"Elizaveta was my little flower who struggled to live in the cold concrete of our world for so long. She never had the chance to grow and thrive, but she told me to make sure that our children breathed the free air she dreamed about for so many years." The Commissioner blinked and cleared his throat before continuing. "I see her in you, Stephanie. You have that same spirit, that same determination. Find the man who loves you with everything he has, for everything you are."

He tapped the end of her nose with his finger. "_That_ is the secret. Not things, not doing or changing. Love, and live. This Elizaveta taught me with her smile that could chase away the shadows and her soul that warmed my coldest despair. She was my love, my life and my breath. Because of her love, I have strength to fight each day. Because of her, I will not stop until my country and my people are completely free."

Tears prickled in Steph's eyes, and she blinked rapidly to keep them from over-spilling. She set her fork on the table with fingers that trembled, then froze as a warm, slightly damp hand covered hers. A cold lick of panic shot through her as she turned her head to meet Joe's dark eyes. The weight of his hand trapped hers against the linen tablecloth, and she wriggled her fingers to give herself a little bit of breathing room. Joe squeezed her hand slightly, gave her a tight smile, and went back to his meal.

For her part, Steph couldn't force herself to eat. The Commissioner's words kept chasing through her mind. Overlaying them were the pictures of Joe's admiration for her _sensible_ dress earlier in the evening, and Ranger's appreciation of who she was in spite of her dress. One man loved her when she lived up to his ideal. The other loved every facet of her, whether it was silly or sensible. _Although I'm pretty sure he enjoys checking out the slutty facet every time I do a distraction_.

A sigh escaped her, and she picked up her fork to spear a limp lettuce leaf from her plate. The obvious difference in how the two men in her life viewed her did little to solve her dilemma. Sacrifice was part of love, and if Joe wanted her to sacrifice a little bit of her free-spirited ways for his happiness, then why not? After all, he'd sacrificed enough through their years of on and off, and it wasn't too much to ask for her to be sensible just a little bit more.

A waiter reached over to place the bread basket between her and Joe. Steph shifted over slightly to make room, then frowned as something hard and smooth bumped against her shoulder. The white coat slid aside for one brief moment, and she caught the flash of light on a gun stuck into the man's pants. Her gaze flashed up to his face, and the dark hatred in the man's eyes sent her backwards out of her chair.

Steph slammed into Commissioner Viteazul, tipping his chair sideways and sending him to the floor in a graceless sprawl. She dove after him, yanking on the tablecloth as she fell in the hopes of creating enough of a diversion to spoil the assassin's aim. Dishes crashed and the silver candelabra fell off the table with a heavy thump. Gunfire erupted from directly overhead, and she shoved the Commissioner under the table, hoping that it would at least buy them a little more time.

The lights went out in the dining room, and there was a moment of shocked silence.

Then the tablecloths caught fire, and Steph's determination to be eminently sensible died in a fiery chaos that shot the evening straight onto the Bombshell Bounty Hunter's Top Ten List of Pyrotechnic Displays.


	7. Chapter 7

_All Plum characters are the property of Janet Evanovich. Rated M for language and highly inappropriate, very public displays of (Ranger) affection. Definitely Babe in the end. All mistakes, errors and non sequiturs are mine alone. Chapter heading quotes from Brooks & Dunn. _

_Nothing About You_

**Part Seven**

"_**You make me feel alive . . ."**_

The cops diverted traffic around Rossini's, causing a traffic jam that would last through the morning rush hour. Fire trucks filled the entire street, their lights going full blast while the firefighters ran hoses towards the formerly high-toned restaurant with to-die-for food and impeccable wait staff. Now Rossini's was more like a Porterhouse steak left too long on the flat griddle: charred, smoking and a complete disaster.

Steph sat on the curb across the street, a blanket around her shoulders to hide the ruins of her sensible dress. Her hasty flying tackle tore the sash out of the waistline, and the rayon skirt melted from the heat of the fire. Her elegant hair style suffered a similar fate; a few pins still clung desperately to her curls, but everything else resembled a rat's nest no self-respecting rodent would want.

Her butt hurt, her eyes stung and the headache from earlier had returned. She wanted a shower, a stiff drink and ten hours of sleep deep enough to count as comatose. Then she planned on exercising after a breakfast of Coke and fries by hitting the Delete button on both her answering machine and her cell phone—numerous times.

Joe stood with the other cops, watching the firefighters work. His jacket was gone, and he stood with his tie loosened and his sleeves pushed up on his forearms. Those arms were currently folded across his chest in a stance that told her the exact degree of his ire. He hadn't said anything to her after RangeMan hustled the Commissioner through the kitchen to the waiting limo. He'd sat her on the curb, told her to _stay put, dammit_ and strode back to help the other officers with evacuating the restaurant guests and staff.

He glanced in her direction, and Steph automatically tensed as he said something to a detective in a smoke-blackened suit before he walked towards her. Joe's expression didn't get any lighter as he closed the distance between them. If anything, his hands seemed to clench tighter at his sides, and his cop face slid into place.

_Oh, shit._

He stopped out of arm's reach, as if he didn't quite trust himself—or her. "Fire Marshal says the building is gutted. Total loss."

Steph hunched her shoulders under the blanket, hearing the unspoken accusation. "That wasn't my fault. I was trying to get the Commissioner out of the line of fire."

"Damn it, Steph! You were in a room full of police officers. Can't you quit pretending for one night and let the professionals do what they are trained to do?" Joe threw up his hands in surrender. "Good God, just one night was all I asked, and you couldn't even give me that."

"They would have never gotten to him in time," Steph said. She pulled the blanket a little tighter. "I saved a man's life tonight, Joe. I don't regret that."

His lips tightened as his jaw clenched. "Tell me, did you have it planned out in advance with Ranger? Is that why you went to all of the trouble to look like you were actually capable of being sensible for once?"

"I didn't know Ranger was working this event until I saw him tonight. That is God's honest truth, whether you believe it or not, Joe."

He stood over her for a long time; she counted the seconds by the flashes of the emergency strobe lights. Finally he sighed. "Fine. Have it your way. You've ruined your dress, you've ruined my reputation, and you've ruined the evening for a lot of people. I hope you're proud of yourself."

Her head came up at that, her temper flaring. "I saved a man's _life_, Joe. That counts for something."

"You had no business doing it. You were there as my _date_, not as a wannabe security specialist!"

Somehow, Steph kept her voice low. She knew there were cops edging closer, hanging on every word, and wives and girlfriends were already dialing their cell phones. "Are you telling me that being your date and being _sensible_ is more important than the Commissioner's life? That you are okay if they took him out in a body bag as long as my dress and my hair stayed perfect?"

His jaw set in a stubborn line. "Steph, you need to learn when to step back. This rushing headlong into danger is both stupid and embarrassing."

"You don't understand," Steph said, her shoulders slumping even more as she realized that Joe probably had never understood. "I would do it again, Joe. Every single time I see a chance to help, to make a difference, I'm going to be there. I don't care if my friends and family are ashamed of me. At least I won't be ashamed of myself."

"Steph . . . Cupcake. Just listen for a moment and you'll—"

"What? See reason? Be sensible?" She shook her head. "I'm not going there again, Joe. It's over."

"All of it?" His hands clenched tight at his sides, and Steph looked up to meet his eyes. "You're throwing us away over _this_?"

His gesture took in the burned-out restaurant, the fire trucks and squad cars, the crowds and lights and chaos. Steph looked at all of them, and tears stung her eyes. No, those weren't worth losing years of comfortable friendship sprinkled liberally with hot sex and volcanic fights. But _she_ was.

"I'm letting you go," she said softly. Her fingers picked at the binding of the blanket. "You love what you think I can change to be. But someone told me tonight that love isn't about changing or doing. It's about loving everything I am with everything you have. You love that imaginary Stephanie, not the Stephanie I am. If I change to be that Stephanie, I won't have anything left to love you."

"So that's it? Just like that, we're over?" Joe asked incredulously.

Steph nodded. "Yeah, I think it's time we accept the truth. It's better than waiting for changes that won't ever happen."

"But what about . . ." Joe stopped, then looked upwards as he bit his lip. "If we could . . ."

A frustrated sigh escaped him, and he shook his head. "You're right. Even if you managed to change, I'd never know when the next explosion would set us back. I couldn't live that way without resenting you."

"I'm sorry, Joe. I didn't want to hurt you."

He lifted one hand, palm up. "It's not you. I'm the one who assumed and forgot to see what was right in front of my face."

Silence fell between them, and they both watched as the firefighters poured more water on the smoldering remains of the restaurant. Neither one wanted to say the final words of good-bye; neither one wanted to be the first to walk away.

Finally, Steph straightened her shoulders. "So . . . I'll swing by on Friday and pick up my stuff from your place."

"I have to work," Joe said. He cleared his throat. "Maybe that's for the best. Do you need help?"

"No. I can get it. I'll leave your key on the counter when I'm done."

He nodded. "Thanks. I'll leave yours there, too. You can pick it up with the rest of the stuff."

"Good-bye, Joe." Steph sniffed a little, trying not to let loose the tears that were threatening to fall.

"Good-bye, Steph." Joe turned to go, then hesitated. "Steph? What about Ranger?"

"What about Ranger?" she asked, throwing the question back at him.

"Is he . . . . are you . . ." Joe stopped and blew out a frustrated breath. "Are you going to be seeing him now?"

Steph shook her head. "I don't know. If Ranger wants something more than friendship, he'll have to make the first move."

"Oh." Joe looked down the street. "Well, if it happens, I'm okay with it. I'll even send Manoso my case of Maalox."

"_Joe!_"

He laughed at her expression. "You're a crazy woman, Cupcake. You two are perfect for each other."

Steph tried to stay outraged, but it slipped away from her. Even with Joe's tacit approval, there was no guarantee where Ranger was concerned. She watched Joe walk back to the cops, and she closed her eyes to block out the sight of so many people talking on their cell phones. Yeah, this news would be hitting the Burg at warp speed. Even if she hadn't started an international incident, her mother's reaction to this final break up with Joe would make a diplomatic disaster seem inviting by comparison.

A black SUV stopped a few feet away, and Ranger got out. He didn't look at any of the activity or chaos around him; his eyes were glued to Steph as he walked over to her. Without a word, he sat on the curb next to her.

"Did the Commissioner get away safely?" Steph asked when it became obvious he wasn't going to speak first.

"Yeah. On a plane for home without even a scratch." Ranger glanced at her, then slid an arm around her shoulders to gather her close. "You did good, Babe. The Feds have the hired killer to interrogate, and the Commissioner has a mutually beneficial agreement with the PD."

"I burned down Rossini's," Steph said in a small voice.

"Babe."

She leaned back until his arm loosened, and she gave him a glare for good measure. "Don't 'Babe' me, Ranger. I screwed up again, and now there are people who are mad at me, and people who are jumping for joy because I had another disaster."

"You're safe, and the Commissioner is alive. That's all that matters." Ranger tried to pull her close again, but she resisted. He wasn't taking 'no' for an answer, and finally she allowed him to tuck her head underneath his chin. It felt safe there, listening to his heartbeat. "Viteazul said to give you his thanks, by the way. He wanted me to deliver a message."

"What was it?" Steph asked. Ranger hesitated, then said something in a language she didn't recognize. "What does that mean?"

"_Cherish the wildflower determined to live despite a barren world_," Ranger said.

"Oh." Steph tried to think, but the combination of Ranger's arm around her and the faint smell of Bvlgari made it difficult. Good thing her mouth didn't need any input from her brain. "Do you like wildflowers?"

"Every time I see a beautiful one," he said, and his hand smoothed the hair away from her face.

"I tried to be sensible tonight," Steph said, her mouth still functioning on its own.

Ranger froze. "What?"

"Sensible. I was trying to be Sensible Stephanie. Y'know, the dress, the glasses, the hair." She looked up at him. "But I couldn't. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't be as sensible as everyone else."

He slid a finger under her chin and tipped her head back. Ever so gently, he placed a kiss on her forehead. "You are very sensible, Steph. Don't let anyone say otherwise."

"But I'm not. I rush into situations and things blow up and . . ."

"You're loyal to your friends. That's sensible. You are generous to people in need. You don't quit, even when everyone tells you that you should. You bring laughter to people who have forgotten what it is. You are passionate about life, and you are passionate _for _life."

Ranger rocked her gently, punctuating his sentences with soft kisses to her temple. By the time he finished, Steph had relaxed against him, her muscles going slack as she let her senses fill with his touch, his voice, his smell.

"You need a ride home?"

"Yeah," she said, "if you don't mind. I want to get cleaned up."

He pulled her to her feet. "It's never a problem, Babe. You got plans for tomorrow?"

"Sleep. Then doing a mass delete on my messages from tonight." Steph glanced toward Joe, but couldn't find him in the crowd. "I'll have to pack up my stuff from Joe's on Friday, then I think I'll head out to Point Pleasant for the weekend. This dress should make the perfect beach bonfire."

"You had a fight with Morelli?" Ranger tensed, and Steph put a hand on his arm.

"It's over. We both realized after tonight that we want each other to be different, and it's not going to happen. Now I just need to work up the courage to tell my mother."

"I can give you back up if you need it." Ranger had the faint smile this time, and she narrowed her eyes at him.

"Don't think I'm forgetting that you promised to help me burn this dress. I want it to go up in the biggest fireball legally possible."

He grinned openly. "I think I can manage it."

"Good." Steph put her hand on the door handle, then stopped and glanced around. The emergency strobe lights flashed in her eyes, and she bit her lip. Before she could think, Ranger grabbed her hand and spun her around, backing her against the SUV until she could feel the cool metal from her shoulders to her knees. He braced his hands on either side of her shoulders, then lowered his head to touch his lips to hers.

It started out as the sweetest kiss she'd ever known. Ranger moved so his hands cradled her head, and he deepened the kiss by slow, agonizing degrees. Just as she was running out of oxygen, he did something utterly sinful with his tongue that made her knees go weak.

Steph tilted her head back and broke the kiss. "Ranger, what are you doing?"

His laugh vibrated through his body. Ranger nibbled delicately on her neck, and as Steph shivered and closed her eyes, he breathed gently in her ear. "I'm starting the fire."

"_**There ain't nothing 'bout you/that don't do something for me."**_

_**~~Ain't Nothing 'Bout You/Brooks & Dunn**_


End file.
